


in november

by rosepetalfall



Series: come home with the rains [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Academia, Alternate Universe - Academia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 20:56:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8637760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosepetalfall/pseuds/rosepetalfall
Summary: “Luke?” Poe calls, the sound of the front door rattling shut accompanying him. “You upstairs?” 
Luke opens his eyes, glancing out the office door, but just raises his voice slightly. He’s in the middle of a sentence and the voice-to-text recorder’s still going — he’s going to lose the thread if he stops now.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I think it's probably been a long and tiring couple weeks for a lot of people, and I wanted to put something totally self-indulgent out there, even if it's tiny. And happy Thanksgiving, fellow Americans. <3 Recommended reading: [In November by Lisel Mueller](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/48911)

“Luke?” Poe calls, the sound of the front door rattling shut accompanying him. “You upstairs?” 

Luke opens his eyes, glancing out the office door, but just raises his voice slightly. He’s in the middle of a sentence and the voice-to-text recorder’s still going — he’s going to lose the thread if he stops now. Poe’s footsteps grow closer, until he’s there standing in the doorway in his socks. 

Luke smiles up at him — Poe’s just slipping off his tie — and nods towards his computer as explanation, keeps going. Poe nods, walks over quietly and leans in, slipping his arms over Luke’s shoulders to look at the computer screen.

“ . . . figure out what happened, comma, you’re coming back, comma, right, question mark,” Luke finishes and turns off the recording. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says, turning his head to press a kiss to Poe’s cheek.

“Mmm, hi,” Poe murmurs, tightening his arms around Luke for a second, as he scans over the newly written dialogue. “This the second chapter?”

“The first attempt at it anyway,” Luke agrees.

Poe hums an acknowledgement and scrolls up to the beginning. Watching the expressions flit over Poe’s face as he reads probably shouldn’t still amuse Luke so much, shouldn’t give him that same giddy-anxious warmth in his stomach. “How was the talk?” Luke asks, tracing his thumb over Poe’s knuckles. 

“Uh,” Poe answers slowly, distracted, “fine. Yeah, it was okay.” Then a second later he pulls away abruptly to frown down at Luke. “Are you serious? Kira’s leaving?”

“The plot has to start somewhere,” Luke says, not quite holding down a smile. 

Poe pinches him. “I kind of thought Anjali coming back from the presumed dead three months later was a pretty good way of introducing the plot.”

“Well, who _doesn’t_ love a miraculous resurrection story?” Luke ask. 

“Okay. Let’s just pretend you’ve already made the plethora of Jesus jokes you want to and move right along,” Poe says. 

“They would’ve been funny jokes,” Luke says. 

“Sure,” Poe responds, in a tone almost eerily reminiscent of Rey, and straightens up. “Keep telling yourself that. You eat dinner yet?”

“Yeah. You hungry? I thought the whole point of these dinner time things was that everyone was getting fed,” Luke says, unfolding himself from his desk chair and getting up.

Poe makes a face. “Yeah, they ordered for the wrong number of people, and I got in late, so now I’m starving. It was two hours of this guy talking about the evolution of cooking practices in early modern France. It was like he was taunting me.”

Luke chuckles a little, caught between sympathy and amusement at Poe’s exaggerated disgruntlement. 

“Are you laughing at my pain?” Poe demands, slipping an arm around Luke’s waist. 

“Sorry,” Luke says, solemnly, then leaning in to kiss Poe, brief and soft. “You want some of that fried rice? We have leftovers.”

“Yeah. Honestly at this point, I don’t even care, I just want food,” Poe says, around a yawn. 

“We can make that happen,” Luke says, his fingers tracing lightly along the soft skin at the nape of Poe’s neck. Even just coming in from the late November chill, he’s warm. 

Poe tips his head forward, resting it against Luke’s. “Today was long,” he sighs. 

“Well, you’re home now,” Luke promises.


End file.
